The Second Wizarding War
by RonaldMcFondled
Summary: James and Moody meet at the Leaky Cauldron to discuss the apparent revival of the Dark Lord. Just trying my hand at an AU, don't really know where this is going but if people enjoy my writing style I will endeavor to make something out of it. R R if you'd like to see more!


James was perched on his chair at the back of the Leaky Cauldron, nursing a firewhiskey with trembling fingers and stealing occasional glances at the door with a noticeable sense of anxiety. Something bad was about to happen. He could feel it. There had been something off about the atmosphere at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement today that seemed to trickle down from the department heads themselves, who seemed to be in a constant state of panic.

None more so than the head of Auror Headquarters himself, Alastor Moody. A man with a typically formidable countenance, Moody was not one to readily display any form of anxiety. Naturally, when the great Mad-Eye Moody was so plainly and openly agitated about something, then whatever that thing was had to be really bloody frightening indeed.

The gruff old auror had been ordering them about all day like an enraged dictator whilst he attended meeting after meeting with the other department heads. The aurors were sent on all sorts of odd jobs. Menial tasks, mostly. It had the distinct air of busywork for the sake of busywork, as though he was keeping them away deliberately, biding his time for something. Any time James or his colleagues asked what was going on, he brushed them off and gave them something new and pointless to do. James, himself one of the most accomplished aurors in the department, had spent most of the day mopping the floor without magic as a task that Moody had described as "character building" and James had described as "a total fucking waste of time" Asking around, James found this same unusual behaviour was the case in the other department branches on their floor.

Most of the other aurors found the day's events either simply irritating or somewhat amusing, but James' experience was telling him that something was wrong. Whilst Moody was not infallible and certainly had his 'off days' as his disciplinary supervisor so eloquently put it, he had not seen the man in such a state for a long time. Not since…

At that moment the man himself stepped through the doors of the Leaky Cauldron, interrupting James' train of thought. The wizened Auror regarded his surroundings with his magical eye, which whizzed about restlessly in it's socket and eventually settled on James in his dark little corner by the bar. Moody gave him a terse nod and made his way over, ordering a drink with a single gesture to the barkeep.

"It's about time Mad-Eye, I was beginning to wonder if you'd show." James smirked at the arrival of his mentor and friend.

Moody scowled back with more than his usual level of vehemence.

"Thought you might've tripped up on the shiny new floors and broken a hip or something". James was never one to get straight to the point.

Moody sat down heavily and the look on his face was thunderous. "This isn't the time for your smart-ass comments." He shifted in his seat and abruptly winced in pain.

"Haemorrhoids acting up again there, Mad-Eye? There's a charm for that, you know."

"Christ, boy, do you ever shut that annoying trap of yours?"

James could not help himself. "Jeez, is it that time of the month already?" He earned a weary glare for that one.

Moody's drink arrived and, after eyeing it carefully and casting a quick Poison Detection spell on it ("CONSTANT VIGILANCE"), he downed the thing in one long gulp. He groaned and sank a little deeper into his chair, raising his arm to gesture for two more drinks. "I'm not drunk enough to drink this crap" They arrived and he downed them both in the same fashion as the first. "That's better" he mumbled.

"Careful, Mad-Eye. I'm not carrying you home this time"

"You'll damn well do what I tell you, Potter. Don't forget that I'm your superior"

"In rank maybe, but not in talent, cleverness, or general handsomeness…"

"And yet here I am, making more than twice your paycheck"

"Not in humility either, apparently"

"Look who's talking"

"Maybe if you apparate home drunk you'll accidentally splinch the haemorrhoids off your arse, you old git"

Moody shifted uncomfortably on his chair and retorted with a pained grimace. "Shut it".

"If you want you can drop trou in front of the department and I'll see if a few well-placed _reducto_ 's will do the trick"

"If you want to see my arse that badly, Potter, you only have to ask"

This was silly. James and Moody both knew why they were here, yet both of them preferred to settle into their regular repartee instead of facing the issue at hand. The shots were as cheap as always, but lacked any of the actual mirth that usually accompanied them. They were stalling. The reasons for this were also clear to both. James was hoping that his blissful ignorance could last a little while longer, and Moody was more than likely just toying with James' nerves for as long as he could. Old git. James decided that this discussion was too important to skirt around.

"So" James began, somewhat unsure of how to initiate the conversation that would draw attention to the proverbial elephant in the room. "Last night's raid…"

"Last night's raid" Moody repeated coolly. God, he was irritating sometimes.

Unsure how to proceed, and desperately terrified of the answer that he was to receive should he even have the balls to ask, James floundered. He was not known to be a coward, quite the opposite in fact. He was widely regarded as one of the best aurors in the division, but he wasn't equipped to handle this.

Not again.

"Out with it, Potter, we both know what you're going to ask"

"Is it…what I think it is?"

"What do you think it is?" James couldn't believe Moody was still toying with him. A spark of anger ignited in him, but quickly extinguished itself when he saw the look on the man's face. He had seen May-Eye at his most intimidating, seen him shouting in righteous fury during raids, seen him laugh in delight at the pub afterwards, seen him irritable, seen him bitter and melancholic, in fact he truly had seen Moody at his best and worst over the years, but not until this very moment had he ever seen the man look so...despondent.

"He…he's back. He's come back, hasn't he."

It wasn't a question, and Moody didn't dignify it with an answer. The look in his eye said it all. James could only lean slowly back into his chair, suddenly very conscious of the shaky breath that he had been holding in for fear that he would be sick if he opened his mouth once more. He couldn't believe it. No, he didn't want to believe it. Moody seemed to take his unsettled disquiet as an expression of understanding, and downed the rest of his drink before slamming the empty glass onto the table. The silence that followed was unbearable, for it allowed James to truly process the implications of Moody's suggestion.

The Dark Lord had returned.

The firewhiskey that had been warming his stomach turned to ice. A cold the likes of which he had not felt in years settled in James, and he sat frozen in shock. The man who managed to bring most of wizarding Britain to it's knees was back, and the madness was going to start all over again. He was rapt with memories of the Dark Lord's reign of terror during the Wizarding War. All of a sudden James remembered that this is what it felt like before. This chill that lay deep in his stomach. He remembered how they once spoke of him only in whispers and hushed tones. He remembered how much terror his very name evoked in even the most stalwart of witches and wizards. He remembered how much he had lost in the fight to rid the world of The Dark Lord for good. And it was all for nought. It was all for nought because the fucker had only gone and come _back_.

Moody regarded him with a weary eye and raised his arm to the bartender to signal for another drink. Despite his obvious panic at the situation at hand, Moody was never one to admit his fears. Fear was a weakness, and Moody could not afford to appear weak, not when looking death in the eye on a daily basis was practically his job description. He sighed and released a long breath.

"This whole Voldemort business is getting to be a real thorn in my arse. Just when I think I can finally sit down and enjoy some damn peace another Dark Lord pops up and ruins my retirement plans."

James was still silent. He could not bring himself to look Moody in the eye. The scars he had acquired from the Wizarding War suddenly felt all too fresh. His mind and body ached and it was all he could do to release a haggard breath and slump even further into his chair, feeling very much that he would like to be sick right now. Not that it would make him feel any better. Eventually his stomach settled enough for him to be able to mutter an almost inaudible "Well, fuck" under his breath.

"You're telling me."

Suddenly James found himself hailing questions at the man, all remaining trace of his usual cocksure, jokey demeanour vanished.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"YES."

"How can you be certain?"

"Because I saw him with my own eyes, Potter." There was a beat, in which James regarded the older wizard with a sense of growing consternation. The sick was rising once again and he could feel it burning at the bottom of his throat.

"Why wasn't anyone told? Who else knows?"

"Mostly just the department heads. Fudge ordered us not to say anything to the rest of you for fear of causing 'undue panic', as if that isn't what's gonna happen anyway when the truth _does_ come out"

"And you're telling me now because?"

"I'm not gonna pussyfoot behind Fudge anymore, not when his head's so far up his ass that he can't see the woods for the newly revived Dark Lord."

"Wait, he doesn't even believe the Dark Lord's returned? How can that be?"

"He's getting scared in his old age, Potter. He's already weathered one war, no doubt he's terrified of having to wage another."

James was momentarily stilled and further inquiry faded under the weight of what he had just heard. War. The Dark Lord was back, and this meant war. The world would be plunged back 20 or so years and the hand of terror that gripped an entire country was getting ready to take hold once more. He wasn't ready for this. He couldn't believe it. How had this happened? James snapped out of his stupor long enough to ask.

"How?"

"Don't ask me" replied Moody. "But we saw him. Me and a handful of others, and it's only a matter of time until word gets out. I'm surprised they kept it quiet this long, to be perfectly honest. Seems Fudge is only really competent when he's scared shitless."

Scared shitless. That particular sentiment was certainly resonating with James at the moment. It was a long time before he could drag his gaze away from the floor. He looked around the dingy pub and took note of all the people there. They looked happy enough. They looked safe. James treasured the moment.

He somehow knew he wouldn't see such a beautiful sight again for a long time.

"What now?"


End file.
